


We Fought The World With Hands Twice Tied

by killingmonsterswritingthings



Category: Football RPF, The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Genre: Cancer, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Depression, M/M, Past Character Death, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, tfios au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingmonsterswritingthings/pseuds/killingmonsterswritingthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iker met Gus in support group. Which proved him wrong and Sergio right and Iker already dreaded telling him, because he hated it when Sergio was right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I've done it again. I picked the weirdest idea my brain spat out and ran away with it and wrote it. I live for being the first person to write a ship tag.
> 
> This fic has been my baby for four months now and I have decided that it is a toddler now and ready to stand on its own legs. It's still growing and developing but I have a direction in which I'm going with it so I feel good about sending the first chapter out into the world. It was titled "Tfootios" for a very long time and I only found the title in the last few days.
> 
> A warning beforehand: This is very much a story about cancer and depression and love. The whole clichéd shabang. It's also sad, I mean this is about cancer kids. So, you know.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the people in this fanfic, that would be weird. I am in no way affiliated with them, either. I also don't own the rights to TFIOS or its characters. This is a work of fiction, written for my own (and hopefully your) amusement and is in no way meant to offend or gain any kind of monetary profit.

Iker met Gus in support group. Which proved him wrong and Sergio right and Iker already dreaded telling him, because he hated it when Sergio was right.

This was only his third time at support group and he still wasn't completely used to it. It wasn't that he didn't think it was a good idea to be here – which it definitely was – but he just couldn't get himself to open up. Why should he share how he felt? Shitty, that's how. Saying that every week wouldn't really help him, would it? But he went, because he had to do something.

Usually he sat across from this German boy – he couldn't remember his name, though he had really tried – but today he found himself facing somebody else. A somebody with a dark red beanie on his head and the saddest blue eyes Iker had ever seen. And he had seen a lot of sad eyes in his young life.

Iker couldn't help but stare for a moment but then tore his gaze away because staring was rude and their counselor had started talking. Iker always tried to pay attention because if he didn't listen in support group and just let his thoughts wander, he didn't really have to sit on an uncomfortable chair for that. Today it was harder than usual though. He kept looking at the boy with the blue eyes.

It came as a surprise to him when it was the boy's turn to talk and he pulled on his beanie self-consciously for a moment. “Hi,” the boy said. “My name is Gus. I'm nineteen. I have... had osteosarcoma with mets almost everywhere and finished my last round of chemo a while ago and am currently in remission.” It was evident that he didn't want to say more, he pressed his lips together and scratched his neck.

“And how do you feel, Gus?” the counselor asked and Iker had to resist the urge to grind his teeth.

“Horrible,” Gus mumbled after a moment. “I feel horrible. I know I should be feeling okay, you know, because for some reason a miracle happened and I survived and I'm NEC. But... my best friend and my girlfriend died recently and I don't get it. I was worse than they were. They were okay. And now they're gone and I'm still here and...” He cut himself off and Iker almost, _almost_ knew how he had wanted to end the sentence.

The counselor offered Gus a sympathetic smile and a few carefully chosen words of comfort before moving on to the German boy, who told them about how scared he was about his hair falling out in his thick accent.

When it was Iker's turn he took a deep breath. “I'm Iker,” he started. “I'm almost twenty-two and I have uveal melanomas in both my eyes. The tumor in the left eye is reacting to the treatment, but the one in the right isn't and they might have to take my eye.” He knew it sounded clinical but he still didn't feel comfortable talking about it, hyper-aware of his accent and the way Gus was staring at him. Iker didn't know why Gus' eyes were suddenly trained on him so intently, almost angrily, since his story wasn't more interesting or different than anyone else's.

“And how do you feel, Iker?” Iker almost winced at the repetition of the question. It wasn't comforting, it would never feel familiar and was just plain awkward. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Could be better,” he said diplomatically. “Could also be worse.”

He slumped back into his chair, avoiding the urge to rub his eyes tiredly and when he looked up again after a moment, Gus was still staring at him. Iker looked away and frowned. Was his tumor visible all of a sudden? Or did he have something on his face?

They kept making eye contact during the rest of the hour and towards the end Iker felt like the stare softened, at least. It was still unsettling, but at least he didn't feel like he had to run and hide anymore.

 

 

When he stepped back outside after the group had finished, Iker fished his phone out of his pocket and wasn't surprised to find a missed call and a text from his Mom. She usually texted him to make sure he was okay and to let him know that she was on her way to pick him up.

Today though the text message read _“I'm so sorry, the car broke down on the way! Can't reach Dad. Can somebody give you a lift?”_

Iker sighed and quickly typed back _“It's okay, don't worry. Sergio can probably pick me up.”_ He didn't mention that Sergio was still at practice. Of course he tried calling him but of course Sergio also didn't answer and it was the same with Ricky, so Iker pocketed his phone again. Taking the bus wouldn't kill him, even if his Mom seemed to think it would.

He had just missed the bus, but he didn't really have anywhere to be, so waiting for the next one wouldn't hurt either. Except that he might get bored. His mind started drifting towards Sergio and practice but he stopped himself there because anything beyond that would just be painful and he had learned to avoid making things harder on himself. He was about to get out his phone again to play a round of Doodle Jump – because he had sworn to never touch Flappy Bird, even though Sergio had installed it on his phone one day after a doctor's visit – when a car pulled up and stopped a few meters away from him. Iker looked up to check who would get out because really, there was nothing around but the church in which they had support group and that had just ended.

Instead of that though he was greeted with the sight of Gus leaning across the passenger seat with the window rolled down, eyeing him a little sceptically. “Do you need a ride?” Iker raised an eyebrow and bit his lip. He didn't _know_ Gus but his Mom would probably yell at him for two hours when he told her he had taken the bus instead of hitching a ride with someone from support group.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, finally, put his phone away and walked to the car. He got in, buckled his seat belt and then carefully turned to look at Gus to tell him his address. Gus nodded and put the car in drive.

Iker realized his mistake after 30 seconds. Gus' driving was awful and for a second he wondered if he was even allowed to drive, but he didn't ask. A particularly bad jostle made Iker hit his head on the window and he winced. At least that made Gus slow down a little.

“I'm sorry,” he said, not looking away from the road, “I've always been a bad driver and I've only been driving again for a few days and I'm out of practice.”

“It's okay,” Iker said, rubbing the side of his head. “I'm not even allowed to drive anymore, so I'd probably be worse.”

“Nah, I don't think so,” Gus said with a shrug. “You have two legs.”

Iker tilted his head to the side because he hadn't caught earlier that Gus had a prosthetic leg. That at least explained the bad driving to a certain degree. “But only like... one working eye, I guess,” he answered. His right eye was prone to going out of focus and blurriness and sometimes even dark spots. He hated it, but he'd hate losing it even more.

He also knew he shouldn't have said anything, because Gus' jaw tightened and his knuckles around the steering wheel turned white. Iker felt the need to apologize, although he wasn't sure for what. For talking about his cancer? When Gus had just done the same thing? He didn't get it.

They spent the rest of the drive in silence and Iker was glad that he only lived around fifteen minutes away from the church.

He couldn't help but notice Gus being a little pale when they stopped in front of Iker's house. Iker pressed his lips together for a moment, then got over himself. “Are you okay?” he asked, because Gus looked like he might be sick.

“Yeah,” Gus said, a little breathless, pressing a hand to his chest. “I think I just need to drink something.”

Iker unbuckled his seat belt and did the same for Gus because he seemed reluctant to move. “Do you have some water with you?”

Gus shook his head weakly and Iker opened the passenger side door. “Come on then. We've got a well stocked fridge.” Gus still didn't look like he wanted to get out of the car or move in any way at all, so Iker walked around to the driver's side and opened Gus' door, too, crouching down a little.

“Can you walk to the house with me?” he asked, wincing internally at the awkward wording. But really, it was better than outright asking if Gus could move the few steps from the sidewalk to the front door on his own. Marginally.

“I damn well hope so,” Gus grumbled and finally started pushing himself out of the seat. Iker hovered, a little unsure if he should lend a hand, but when Gus tried to stand up properly and swayed forward a little, he caught him automatically.

“Easy,” he mumbled, “let's get you inside, okay?”

He could tell Gus hated it and he had no intention of making his embarrassment worse, but Gus had to drink something and rest for a moment and if he had to lean on Iker to get there, that was okay.

They made it into Iker's living room without more complications. Gus did turn even paler though, so Iker made him sit down on the couch and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. When Iker entered the living room again, Gus was lying on his side on the couch but sat up quickly – or as quickly as he could – when he saw Iker. Iker wordlessly handed him the glass and Gus took a few small sips before sighing.

“I’m really sorry for this. You don’t even really know me and now you’re harboring me in your home.” Which accurately summarized Iker’s feelings but he wouldn’t say that out loud.

“What was I supposed to do? Let you sit in your car and suffer?”

Gus shrugged weakly. “You could have.”

“Yeah, and have my parents ask me why there’s a vampire sitting in a car in front of our house,” Iker said with a raised eyebrow because really, he couldn’t just let somebody die in front of his own driveway but he couldn’t really say that. Gus actually cracked a little smile at that so Iker must have accidentally done something right.

Still, Gus kept flexing his fingers and then finished the water in three big gulps which left him breathless. “Don’t puke on the carpet,” Iker said and mentally slapped himself right after. How stupid could you be, honestly?

“Don’t worry,” Gus mumbled and they fell back into an uncomfortable silence. “I was supposed to help you by giving you a ride home, not the other way around,” he said after a while and Iker tried not to feel insulted.

“It's fine,” he said. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that puking thing. And I mean technically there is no 'other way around', you're just hanging out here. I could drive you home but I don't have a car and I'm also technically not supposed to drive anymore. Also I'd be stranded at your house if I took your car, so that's not ideal either.” He knew he was rambling but he just didn't know what to _do_ because this was awkward.

“Yeah,” Gus mumbled. “No, it's okay, really. I'm just going to wait until I feel better.”

Iker nodded, then his eyes fell on Gus' empty glass. “Want more water?”

Gus shrugged and then nodded. “Please,” he said and Iker got up to fill the glass again, this time getting one for himself, too.

This time when he came back, Gus had taken his beanie off and was toying nervously with it, his hands bunching up the soft cotton. Iker sat down next to him, putting the glasses on the coffee table. He could see that the color was returning to Gus' face and took that as a good sign. It stood in stark contrast with the dark hair that was just coming in on his head again. Barely more than faint stubble. Iker wondered just how long it had been since Gus had finished chemotherapy. He also wondered what it would feel like to touch his hair, if it would be similar to the only other time he had felt somebody's hair coming in after radiation.

He noticed he was staring and dragged a hand over his face to shake himself out of it. “You really shouldn't be driving, you know,” he said, half expecting Gus to get angry but Gus nodded.

“Yeah, but I told my parents I wouldn't go to support group unless I could drive myself so they let me.”

Iker raised an eyebrow. “You're not there voluntarily?”

Gus grimaced. “It's complicated,” he finally said and Iker hated that answer because it was the most noncommittal and interesting answer there was. And also the most evading. He could take a hint. Gus didn't want to talk.

They sat in silence for a while, Gus eventually abandoning his beanie in his lap for the glass on the table, taking smaller sips again. Iker caught himself watching him a few times and immediately told himself to stop _hovering_ because he wasn't Gus' mom. But staring down at his hands wasn't really the most interesting thing either.

He thought about what to say next, what to _do_ next. He had used to be good at social interaction. Before his diagnosis. Back when he had been able to play with the team and not sat around at home alone all the time. “Do you wanna like... play some video games?” he asked after a while, at the same time as Gus said: “I should leave.”

“Oh,” Iker said, smiling self-consciously. “Okay. Are you sure?”

Gus took a deep – almost annoyed – breath. “Yeah, I'm fine.” He grabbed the beanie and put it on his head firmly, tugging it down over his ears. Iker looked at him, unsure what to say.

“Okay,” he repeated and he could have sworn Gus flinched.

Gus stood up and Iker followed suit. “I really need to go,” Gus said and Iker bit his lip.

“I... yeah. Umm...,” he stammered, following Gus to the door. “This is weird but can you like give me your phone number? Or I can give you mine? Just so you can text me when you get home and let me know nothing happened.” He cringed at his own awkwardness. He couldn't properly interact with other cancer people and he couldn't properly interact with healthy people either. He hated it.

Gus shook his head. “Look, this was really nice of you and you seem like a cool guy but I’m not looking for a friend right now.”

Iker stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh. Okay. Umm then... I... If I said anything that made you uncomfortable I'm really sorry!”

Gus pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. “Please, I know this is a horribly cliched thing to say but I'm basically a walking cliche so you have to believe me. It has nothing to do with you. This is all me. I just can’t be around y- I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

Iker nodded slightly, dumbstruck. He didn't get what was going on but he understood that Gus obviously didn't want to stay or talk to him any longer so he had to let him go. “Okay,” he said, again. “Get home safely, yeah?”

Opening the door, Gus looked at him a final time with a sad expression. “I will. And thank you.”

 

 

The door closed behind him and Iker was left wondering what it was that he had done that had scared Gus away. What had seemingly been scaring him from the beginning.

When he went back to the living room he was greeted by the sight of the two empty water glasses on the table. He resisted the urge to sigh and sit down on the sofa and instead picked up the glasses and went into the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher. He hated not cleaning up after himself, even though his Mom had been cutting him a lot more slack since he had gotten sick. He hated that, too.

He knew he had to get up early the next morning though because they were driving to the clinic. Or well, hopefully, since the car seemed to be out of commission. Either way, he was due for more treatment and tests and talks and didn't that already fill him with overwhelming joy.

So he retreated to his room to rest his eyes – the right one had started to hurt and that was never a good sign. He had barely lain down when his phone started ringing and he had to dig it out of pocket with some effort. It was his Mom.

“Hey,” he said after picking up.

“ _Cariño,_ ” she said softly. “How are you? Did you find somebody to take you home?“

He sighed tiredly. “Yeah, somebody from support group drove me,” he said. Being as vague but as reassuring as possible, that's what he had learned worked best with his Mom.

“Oh, that's good,” she said, relief obvious.

“What happened with the car?” he asked, rolling onto his side and resisting the urge to press his hand against his eye because it definitely hurt now.

“Nothing major,” she said. “Flat tire that I couldn't change on my own so I had to call the repair shop to send someone to help me. I should be home in a while. Have you eaten yet?”

He bit his lip. No, he hadn't. But he also really didn't feel like getting up again.

His silence betrayed him. “Iker,” his Mom said, voice serious and he grimaced.

“I'm sorry, _mamá_. I... talked to this guy for a bit and forgot and I'm really tired now,” he mumbled.

She sighed but her response immediately sounded softer. “Okay, I'm glad you're making friends.” He scrunched up his nose, thinking about how Gus had really not wanted to be his friend. But there was no use in correcting and upsetting his mother. “How about you sleep for a bit and I'll make you a sandwich when I get home.”

“Sounds nice,” he said. “Thanks, _mamá_.”

“I'll see you then,” she said.

“Bye,” he mumbled, ending the call and dropping his phone on his bedside table. He looked at it for a moment, then he sighed and got up, shuffling over to his bathroom. Hopefully he still had some Advil.

Thankfully he found some after going through the bathroom cabinet for a moment, making a mental note to remind his Mom to get more. He filled the cup on the counter with water, downed two Advil and then went back to his room.

Taking off his jeans and hoodie he was reminded that a few months back his arms wouldn't have felt this heavy because he was exhausted from being sick but because he had just gotten home from practice, maybe even with Sergio in tow, talking about Cris' latest antics. But that was in the past and he brushed the thought aside, slipping into his pajama pants and crawling into his bed.

His eyes flicked back to his phone for a moment, wishing that he had insisted on getting Gus' number because there was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that Gus might not have made it home. Why had he let him drive? He hadn't been in a fitting state to drive in the first place and recovering at Iker's house for a few minutes wouldn't have changed that.

Iker took a deep breath and forced himself to shut his eyes. He had to stop worrying because he really needed to sleep. Gus knew what he was doing. Hopefully. And tomorrow, after being prodded by doctors, Iker would find somebody who knew him. Somebody had to.

Still, he fell asleep thinking about a boy with sad, haunted eyes that made him look older than he was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is, as usual, lyrics from [How It's Going To Be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ikoweMWOk) by Gerard Way.
> 
> This fic is beta read by the amazing [Sammy](http://sammylostshoe.tumblr.com) who doesn't care about football at all and still reads my shit.
> 
> If you're not completely weirded out now, leave kudos and/or a comment and come talk to me on my [Tumblr](http://mcsandburg.tumblr.com). <3


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't beta read so if you find any mistakes, please let me know. :)

The next morning, Iker woke up to four texts from Sergio and a growling stomach. Against her saying so, his Mom hadn't woken him up again last night to eat.

He rolled out of bed, trying for a moment to tame his bedhead and then deciding that there really was no reason to care so much. So he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and padded downstairs into the kitchen, where his parents were sitting at the table, his Mom reading the paper, his Dad chewing on some toast.

“Oh, good morning,” his Mom said after looking up from her reading material.

“We were just about to come wake you up,” his Dad added.

Iker smiled. “Morning.”

“Do you want some eggs?” his Mom asked. He shook his head.

“I'll think uhh...,” he thought for a second, “I'll just have some cereal.”

“Okay,” his Mom smiled and got up to get him a bowl.

“It's fine, I can do it,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed. He wasn't five years old and he wasn't dying. Well, yet. Either way, he could still make himself breakfast. They looked at each other for a moment, then his Mom raised her hands in defeat.

“Okay,” she repeated, sitting back down. He smiled at her gratefully and moved around the kitchen by himself, getting a bowl and grabbing the cereal from the cabinet. The entire time he could feel his parents' concerned looks in his back. He ignored them, opening the fridge to check if they still had milk.

Finally he sat down with them at the kitchen table and, while eating the first spoon of his not-yet-soggy cereal, checked the texts Sergio had sent him.

“ _hey sorry training took longer today. whyd you call?”_

 

 

“ _did sth happen?”_

 

 

“ _ikerito?”_

 

 

“ _iker please tell me youre okay!”_

 

 

The last one had been sent this morning at 6am and since his parents hadn't said anything Iker assumed that Sergio wasn't concerned enough to call yet. Still, he felt guilty for worrying his best friend when he himself was pissed that he didn't know if Gus had made it home last night.

 

 

“ _Sorry, I fell asleep early yesterday. Everything's fine! We had car troubles but a guy from support group gave me a ride home. Was a strange day,”_ he answered, the spoon held between his teeth. His mother gave him a disapproving look. He shot her a smile.

“Sorry, Sese was worried.”

Her expression changed to understanding and Iker put his phone down, finally focusing properly on his breakfast and dutifully ignoring the buzzing of an incoming text – several, actually – because his Mom hated it when he was distracted while eating. He knew it was rude to check his phone all the time anyway but she let a lot slide in that department, too. Only eating was really important because he had to stay “healthy”. He wanted to laugh every time she said it, but that would make her cry so he didn't.

He finished the entire bowl of cereal and then watched as his Mom made sandwiches “in case he got hungry later” while they were at the hospital. He didn't correct her that he never liked eating while he was there, no matter how good the food she brought was.

Finally he excused himself to get ready for the day and – once he was safely in his room – checked his texts again.

 

 

“ _omg you met a boy? tell me more!!!”_

 

 

“ _i told you you were gonna meet someone! ha!!”_

 

“ _what are you doing today??”_

 

 

“ _hows the eye?”_

 

 

Iker couldn't help but smile a little over Sergio's unabashed excitement. _“It's nothing,”_ he wrote, _“he doesn't seem to like me much. The eye is doing okay, I'm due for treatment and tests again today.”_

Then, on an afterthought, he added: _“Why are you asking, don't you have class today?”_

He put his phone down on his bed and then went to go shower and find some clothes for the day. It didn't really matter how he showed up at the hospital and he'd shower again afterwards anyway because he always felt like the stench would never leave him, but two showers a day couldn't hurt.

When he came back into his room afterwards, drying his hair off with a towel, his phone was just buzzing with the last of what he assumed was a train of messages.

 

“ _everybody likes you!!”_

 

“ _just dont be so grumpy”_

 

“ _ohh right. wanna do something after?”_

 

“ _yeah but its just this super boring stuff about phonetics that i dont understand so i could just skip and hang out with you”_

 

Iker rolled his eyes and slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt before bothering to answer. Sergio had just enrolled at their community college this fall but he wasn’t very enthusiastic about it, mostly doing it due to Iker’s and his coach’s insistence. He hadn’t had the grades in high school to get a scholar ship, not even one for football – especially not since he had only played on the school’s team for a year and otherwise stayed loyal to the local club he had grown up in – so all hopes for a good college had been buried anyway.

 

“ _Go to school, Sese,”_ he wrote, completely ignoring the comments about Gus and being grumpy. _“Learn something so you can get that teaching job in Europe. I’ll text you later, okay? Don’t know if I’ll be in the mood to get beaten at FIFA ten times in a row by you.”_

 

“ _but its so boooriiiiing!!!”_

 

“ _i wanna play football in europe not teach ugh”_

 

“ _come on itll be fun! i can bring cesc so we can beat_ him _”_

 

“ _You can teach_ and _play football. And don’t you dare,”_ Iker just wrote before looking at the time and grudgingly going downstairs because it was time to leave. But really, he didn’t exactly want to see Cesc. They could just play FIFA without him at Sergio’s place while Iker listened to music alone at home because he _hurt_.

The text messages still came in a steady stream while he was sitting on the passenger seat in his Mom’s car.

 

“ _yeah but it wont be the same”_

 

“ _id be that weird guy who cant do anything right”_

 

“ _i should leave for class weh”_

 

“ _i have like five more minutes and cant find my car keyes oops”_

 

“ _got them”_

 

Iker couldn’t help but smile fondly. Sergio provided exactly the right amount of normalcy without even trying.

His Mom looked over at him when they stopped at a red light. “A friend?” she asked, smilling herself. Iker almost rolled his eyes.

“Only Sese,” he said. He knew she was worried because he barely talked to anybody but Sergio anymore but he himself really thought it was better if he kept his distance from everybody else. It’d just hurt them in the long run if he kept sticking around.

 

“ _Europe isn’t all that great. And who knows, Chicago or LA might still sign you. Go to school, okay?”_

 

There was no answer until they got to the hospital which Iker took as a sign that Sergio had actually gone to class. They where sitting down in the waiting area in front of Iker’s doctor’s office when his phone buzzed again.

 

“ _dont make fun of me,_ gruñón _”_

 

“ _youre just bitter because europe stole all your friends”_

 

“ “““““ _friends””””” ”_

Iker rolled his eyes at the excessive quotation marks. Friends, right.

 

“ _I’m not bitter,”_ he wrote. _“And now pay attention in class because I can’t write another paper for you.”_

 

“ _dammit i was counting on that”_

 

Iker didn’t bother to answer again after that, mostly to give Sergio no further excuses for not paying attention. He pocketed his phone and looked at his Mom who was watching him with a guarded expression.

“ _Mamá_ ,” he sighed, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

She smiled sadly. “I just wish you’d talk to more people than Sergio.”

“I don’t only talk to Sergio,” he said weakly. “I had Cris over just last week and Ricky keeps calling me.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Ricardo keeps calling but you barely ever answer. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, _cariño_.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt, okay?” he said, knowing full well how defensive he sounded. “They have other things to worry about. They lost the last three games.”

“Have you ever considered that football isn’t everything?”

He pressed his lips together and stared at his feet. “Of course,” he mumbled after a moment. “Because everything my life is now is this.” He made a vague all-encompassing handmotion.

His mother sighed, leaning over and lightly stroking his cheek. “I didn’t mean it that way, Iker.”

“I know,” he said. “But I did. Their life is football and mine is cancer now. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not really, but he couldn’t say that. He knew it was a lie, his mother knew it was a lie, too, but if he didn’t even try to pretend there really wasn’t a point to hold on anymore.

 

 

The four hours they spent at the hospital that day left Iker with an even worse feeling than usual. Mostly because the doctor’s still couldn’t tell him if they would have to take his eye. The only thing they were sure off was that they would have to perform surgery. How invading it would be “would become clear in the next three weeks”. Iker could have strangled them, but years of practice – even before having to deal with doctor’s on a daily basis – had taught him how to ignore that impulse.

“How can they still not tell?” he grumbled while fastening his seatbelt. “I just wanna know if I’ll still be able to see anything at all in a month and they can’t even tell me how bad it is.”

“Those things take time,” his mother said soothingly.

“Too much time.”

She sighed and started the car and Iker fell into silence. He didn’t take out his phone to text Sergio either.

 

When they came home he went straight to his room to take a nap. Being poked at and put off and angered had really drained his batteries. He curled up under his blankets, closed his eyes and pretended that he was already blind and didn’t care. Maybe darkness was more peaceful than it seemed.

He was woken up by somebody poking his side and a voice talking way too loudly next to his ear.

"Eeeeyyy, your Mom says it's time to wake uuuup!"

Iker half-heartedly tried to shove Sergio away. "What are you doing here?" he grumbled, wondering what had happened to just letting him sleep when he was tired.

"Being a good friend, duh," Sergio said and started pulling at Iker's arm. "Come on, get up, I brought DVDs."

Iker sighed deeply but finally opened his eyes completely, blinking up at Sergio.

"There he is," Sergio said with a bright grin and Iker couldn't help but smile back at him. “That’s it.”

Iker sat up, patting at his hair a little but Sergio just shook his head. “It’s fine, leave it.” And Iker shrugged because it really didn’t matter.

They hung out on the couch in the living room watching the first Transformers movie even though Iker knew it by heart by now, but the other two options would have been Bambi and The Miracle of Bern. Sometimes he wondered what exact train of thought led Sergio to make his decisions. But it was alright, since he wasn’t really paying attention anyway, still tired and with a dull throbbing in his left temple. Iker’s mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen and for once he didn’t get up to offer to help.

“So,” Sergio said halfway through the movie, turning to Iker, “about that boy you met…”

Iker groaned but let himself be drawn into the conversation, mostly because the worry about Gus not having gotten home safely was still there. “What?” he said, mostly to let Sergio have his fun.

“What’s his name?”

“Gus,” Iker said and Sergio raised his eyebrows.

Iker defensively held up his palms. “That’s all he said.”

“That’s not much to go by, Ikerito. We can’t find his number like that.”

“How do you even know I don’t have his numer?” Iker asked in a challenging tone but Sergio just snorted.

“You said “he doesn’t seem to like me much”,” he quoted Iker in a horrible imitation of his voice and with exaggerated air-quotes. “And you probably didn’t even ask because you’re a giant baby.”

Iker frowned. “For your information I did ask him and he said no.”

That shut Sergio right up. “Seriously? He said no? Is he _insane_?” He contemplated that for a moment. “He doesn’t have brain cancer or anything, does he?”

Iker hit his shoulder. “No, he doesn’t. Be a little sensible, Sese. He was like super uncomfortable the entire time he was here.” He launched into an explanation of what had happened last night because it had occured to him that Sergio didn’t know the entire story.

“That’s weird,” Sergio said after he had finished. “But maybe he just didn’t feel well?”

“Maybe,” Iker shrugged. “But he already looked at me like that during Support Group and he seemed fine then…”

Sergio seemed deep in thought for another moment, then he smiled brightly. “Seems like a job for me. Do you know anything else about him because like “had cancer” and his first name aren’t really a lot to go by.”

“He uhh… has one leg?” Iker offered. On one hand he really wanted to know Gus’ number so he could find out if he was okay but he also felt kind of weird offering up information about a guy he barely knew. Then again Sergio had done this a hundred times in the past and Iker’s half-hearted protests had never gotten him anywhere.

Sergio nodded seriously. “That narrows it down,” he said. “Still doesn’t ring a bell with me so definitely not from our high school. I could ask around though.”

Iker looked at him with a pained expression. He was torn between saying “Yes, please” and “No way, don’t do that, it’s creepy.”

Sergio nudged his side. “People do this all the time, okay, and you’re clearly worried so I’ll find your mystery boy, even if it kills me.” He seemed to realise what he had said the second he closed his mouth and scrunched up his face in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Iker said, ruffling his hair.

“I wish Unai was here,” they said at the same time and then started laughing.

“He’d totally be on my side, okay,” Sergio said and Iker shook his head.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “He’s my _brother_. He’d totally back me up here.”

Sergio made a dismissive handmotion. “Nah, we’d be partners in crime and hunt down your boy for you and make you our slave for like a month.”

Iker pulled a face. “Okay, now I’m glad he’s not here.”

“Another one that Europe has stolen away,” Sergio said with a smirk and Iker sighed loudly, smacking Sergio’s thigh with his palm.

“Except that I almost had to beg him to go because he didn’t want to leave me,” he said, scooting down to put his head in Sergio’s lap. “He was so terrified something awful was going to happen. Like, you know, beyond the eye-eating cancer. I had to pull all my big brother cards to make him go.”

“I know,” Sergio mumbled, dutifully running his hands through Iker’s hair. They hadn’t paid attention to the movie in a few minutes but since the ending wasn’t news to either of them they chose to keep ignoring it. “But you’ll be fine and he’ll be too. He knows better than not to listen to you.”

Iker could hear the smile and the implication but he chose not to comment on it because he was too comfortable to start another discussion now and he was pretty sure dinner would be ready soon. He didn’t want to have an intense conversation about his future before or during that.

Instead he could feel himself drifting off again, lulled to sleep by the soft movement of Sergio’s hands on his scalp that soothed his headache and also momentarily banned all worries from his mind. He almost believed Sergio in that moment. Maybe he would be fine. Maybe everything would work out in the end. And the darkness really didn’t seem so daunting right then.

Of course that was when his Mom had to call them for dinner. Some things apparently just weren’t meant to be, Iker thought, as Sergio carefully nudged him so he could get up.

 


End file.
